


Behold the Flowing Years

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Category: Bleach, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Dimension Travel, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:22:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo escapes his dimension to start anew, away from the memories of death and friendships past that he can't seem to put to rest. Rohan is a beautiful country, and Theoden is a good king, but evil only grows stronger within the borders of Mordor, and Ichigo finds himself once more forced to protect those whom he has grown to love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've been working on this for a while... I wanted to do a big piece, and God knows this will be huge. I hope you enjoy.

The trip was... Hard. Nothing like Ichigo expected. It was... Painful. Burning. Like throwing his body onto an open fire, but a thousand times worse.

 

When he wakes up, he's in a bed, and there is someone with him, sitting in a little wooden chair in the corner of his eye.

 

He turns his head slowly, wary of reigniting the pain he remembers all too clearly.

 

"Who... Who are you?"

 

The man is elderly, with a great beard the color of ash and robes to match. He's smoking from a long pipe, which he holds in his right hand, and has a staff balanced  across his knees.

 

"No, no, I didn't understand that," the man says thoughtfully in English. "But I imagine you've asked who I am. I am called Gandalf. And you are?"

 

Ichigo blinks, then dredges up what he can recall from his English classes.

 

"My name is... Ichigo."

 

Gandalf smiles.

 

"So you understand the Common Tongue," he says, and Ichigo can practically hear the capital letters. "That's good."

 

"... Where... Where am I?"

 

"In the home of Theoden, son of Thengel, the King of Rohan."

 

Ichigo pauses. He's never heard names like that, and he's pretty sure kings aren't really a thing anymore... Also, Rohan isn't a place- at least, not on any map he's ever seen.

 

Which means...

 

Holy shit.

 

It worked.

 

But Gandalf is still talking.

 

"Reports say you fell from the sky," he tells Ichigo. "In a burst of flame. I came as quickly as I could when I heard that rumor. The crater you left outside the gates is... Sizable."

 

Ichigo winces, even if he doesn't know what the word sizable means.

 

"I am sorry," he says softly. "It was not my... Intention, to cause trouble."

 

Gandalf chuckles.

 

"Well, it is obvious you are not of Middle Earth," he says sensibly, fiddling with the gnarled end of his staff. "I cannot seem to place your accent. Are you a god, perhaps? Or a spirit of the sky?"

 

Ichigo frowns.

 

"I am no kami," he says, almost sharp. "I am just a man."

 

"Men cannot fly," Gandalf points out good-naturedly, seemingly skipping over the unfamiliar word, and the orangette scowls.

 

"I did not fly, it seems," he says sourly. "I have fell."

 

"Fallen," Gandalf corrects. "Or 'I fell'. And I suppose you do have a point. Do you think you can sit up, Master Ichigo? I have no doubt you're hungry."

 

Ichigo pauses.

 

"I am... Hungry," he admits. "But I am- the word- not strong?"

 

"Weak," Gandalf supplies helpfully, rising. "I'll call someone to help you up and get you something to eat. As soon as you're able, you have an audience with the king, so get better quickly, if you please."

 

He gives Ichigo a wink.

 

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Master Ichigo."

 

And before Ichigo can reply, Gandalf is gone, moving far more quickly than an old man ought to be able.

 

Sighing to himself, Ichigo waits quietly for whoever it is that will come for him.

 

This could turn out to be very, very difficult.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The women who take care of him are kind enough, good-natured and golden-haired. Ichigo doesn't always understand what they're saying- their accent in 'Common Tongue' is oddly rough, and puts him off on occasion- but he knows they're married, each with multiple sons and daughters, and saw when he fell from the sky, all of a week ago.

 

"It was like a drop of the sun itself came down," Éohides tells him once he's gotten strong enough to sit up on his own and eat. "It was beautiful."

 

"And downright terrifying," adds Ósle as she sets tugs at his sheets. "When you got close... I thought the whole town would burn up."

 

"Sorry." Ichigo says sorry a lot, he finds. It's a word that works for any situation, which is handy when his English peters out after small talk and niceties are exchanged.

 

"No need to be sorry! I doubt you realized, considering what a mess you were when King Theoden had you brought in." Ósle grins at him. "So, do you think you'll be able to manage a walk to the gardens today?"

 

Ichigo takes a moment swallow his mouthful of potatoes- he's never really been a fan, but it's been made quite obvious that it's a staple food of these people, something he may have to get used to eating.

 

"I'll damn well try," he says after a moment. "But I'm not going out naked." He's been bare under his sheets since he first woke.

 

The women laugh, and Éohides goes to find him clothes.

 

"You're going to do very well, if King Theoden decides to keep you at court," Ósle tells him, collecting his plate and goblet. "I can tell already."

  
  


*.*

  
  


The gardens are beautiful, filled with a wild sort of grace that Ichigo's not used to. They're small, encircled by pillars and what look like servants' quarters, but Ichigo's led out, there's no one there.

 

"It is beautiful," he tells Ósle, who's standing on his right.

 

"It ought to be," she says frankly. "We servants take care of it in our free time. That's mine and my husband's patch, there-" she points to a stretch of poppies and daffodils. "My girls picked the flowers. There are some onion plants and carrots, as well."

 

"I don't have a patch here," Éohides tacks on when he looks at her. "My husband and I live in the village, with his mother. Vile old witch."

 

Ichigo snorts. He's heard about the in-law.

 

"You can take a walk, if you like," Ósle tells him kindly. "I've got to go check up on the kitchens- cook likes to slack off when I'm not there to frighten him."

 

"And I need to go check up on my youngest- she woke up with a bit of a cold this morning," Èohides adds apologetically. "Ósle will probably be back before me."

 

"I remember the way back," Ichigo promises them. "I will  go back if I am not feel well." He pauses. "Feeling."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

Ichigo nods.

 

"I miss the sun," he tells them. "I will sit in the garden."

 

The women smile, and Ósle even reaches up to ruffle his hair.

 

"Alright- call out if you don't think you can manage," she tells him. "There's always someone about."

 

He nods again and the women leave him to wander alone. It's freeing, the fact that he can tilt his face up into the warmth of the sun and breathe in the scent of sweet grasses and flowers.

 

From what he can tell, this world is very different from his own. There's no electricity to speak of, for instance, and the women talk of stables and hunts and kings. Plus, there's the clothing.

 

Almost absently, Ichigo plucks at the plain brown fabric that makes up his tunic. It's belted around his waist and stops mid-thigh, giving way to dark trousers and a pair of boots that seem used, but serviceable. It's certainly different from what he knows, but he's not uncomfortable, and honestly grateful for anything that means he won't be wandering around in a sheet.

 

Well, he asked for a change, didn't he? This is a change.

 

"Hello."

 

Ichigo blinks and looks down. A small child with golden hair and clear eyes gazes up at him with unrestrained wonder.

 

He smiles.

 

"Hello," he replies with a nod.

 

"Father said the man that fell from the sky had hair made of fire," the little boy says. "Is that you?"

 

"Yes." Ichigo offers a little bow. "I am Ichigo. What is your name?"

 

The little boy goes pink, but draws himself up to his full height of maybe Ichigo's thigh.

 

"I am Theodred, son of Theoden," he declares. "I'm going to be king one day."

 

Ichigo chuckles, kneeling carefully on the flagstones under their feet.

 

"Well, it is nice to meet you, little one."

 

The child blinks up at him curiously.

 

"Is your hair really made of fire?" He asks, eyes one the scruffy locks that fall into Ichigo's eyes.

 

The teen laughs.

 

"No, it is not."

 

"Are you sure?"

 

"I am. Would you like to check?"

 

The little boy stares and Ichigo smiles, bowing his head so his hair is within reach of the child before him. There's a beat of stillness, and then, he can feel fingers running lightly through his hair.

 

"It's... It's not fire." Theodred lets go, looking put out.

 

Ichigo chuckles.

 

"Sorry, little one

 

"Why do you talk like that?" He asks. "You say all the words, and you say them funny."

 

Ichigo pauses.

 

"I am not from here," he tells the little boy after a moment. "And I do not speak Common Tongue good- well. I do not speak Common Tongue well."

 

"So this is where you've gotten, Theodred."

 

The child whirls and Ichigo looks up to see an older blond man standing over them, a smile tugging at his lips. A golden circlet crowns his head, but even without it, Ichigo could see Theodred's features in the man's smile.

 

Ichigo bows slightly,

 

"Hello," he greets quietly, straightening. "Your Majesty."

 

"You are the man who fell from the sky," Theoden remarks. "Ósle did not say you'd gotten well enough to go out."

 

"This is my first time out," Ichigo explains, struggling to his feet. "A test."

 

Theoden reaches out to help him up, gripping Ichigo by the elbow to steady him.

 

"Perhaps you should return to your rooms, to rest," he suggests as Ichigo straightens. "You still seem pale."

 

Ichigo shakes his head.

 

"I will be well in a moment," he says. "I am not used to so much... I have been resting long."

 

"Better to rest and properly regain your strength than fall from your horse," Theoden tells him. "Come along Theodred. Let's walk..." He trails off. "You know, Gandalf didn't give me your name."

 

"Ichigo, your Majesty."

 

"No surname? No family?"

 

Ichigo thinks of Theodred's introduction, how he listed his sire.

 

Ichigo doesn't want Isshin's name.

 

"Masaki," he says finally. "Son of Masaki."

 

Theoden nods thoughtfully.

 

"Very well. Theodred, come. We'll walk Master Ichigo back to his rooms."

 

"Yes, father." Theodred trails after them, falling into step just behind Theoden.

 

Ichigo doesn't protest when he's steered by the elbow back towards his rooms. The walk to the gardens alone was quite tiring, regardless of his hope to stay put for longer in the warmth of the sun.

 

He sees his door far too quickly, propped open to reveal his messy bed.

 

"Thank you, King Theoden, little one." He gives a little bow.

 

Theoden smiles.

 

"We shall see you when you are well, Master Ichigo," he says, putting a hand on Theodred's shoulder. "For now, rest."

 

Theodred smiles up at him.

 

"Farewell, Master Ichigo!"

 

Ichigo's lip quirks.

 

"Good-bye, Theodred."

 

With a final bow, he slips into the room and shuts the door.

  
He collapses onto the bed and sleeps.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, due to me trying to get on with this fic and recognizing that I can't handle 10k chapters, I'm splitting up the one chapter I have up and will be adding on new things along the way. Sorry to excite you with this chapter, but there will be some new stuff at the end of this blitzing.

When Ichigo wakes up again, he's missing his boots and it's dark again. He doesn't know how long he slept, but he does know it's been a long time, judging by the stiffness in his muscles.

 

Also, someone is touching his hair.

 

Blinking sleep from his eyes, he sits up slowly, wincing as the fingers- little, chubby fingers- tighten in his hair.

 

"... Theodred?"

 

It's dark, but the form that draws back its hand is small, folded up at the head of his bed.

 

"I wanted to see if you're hair was fire," the little boy mumbles sheepishly. "Maybe it's only hot at night."

 

Ichigo huffs a laugh.

 

"And?" He asks, running a hand through his hair absently. "Is it?"

 

"No." Theodred sounds disappointed. "I thought it would be."

 

"Sorry." Ichigo pauses. "You should be in bed right now."

 

"I don't want to."

 

The teen snorts.

 

"Too bad," he says scooping the boy up as he gets to his feet. "Even little kings need sleep."

 

Theodred makes a noise of unhappiness, but doesn't protest as Ichigo sets him on his hip and carries him into the hall.

 

"Where is your room?" He asks, words a whisper once he's in the corridor. "I do not- don't know the way."

 

"You fixed your talking!" Theodred whispers back brightly. "You said 'don't'."

 

"Everyone else does," Ichigo says. "I am getting better. You didn't answer my question."

 

"Down the hall." Theodred points in the direction away from the gardens, face and hands lit by the torch overhead.

 

Ichigo wants to take it down, but he can already feel his fingers shaking. He won't be able to carry Theodred for long. And to trust himself with a flame...

 

No. Not a good idea,

 

He moves quickly, following Theodred's directions and pointedly ignoring the way the floor doesn't seem quite steady.

 

"Here- this is my room."

 

Ichigo leans heavily against the door frame, setting Theodred on the floor.

 

"Get into your bed," he mutters. "I have to go back."

 

"Master Ichigo? Are you okay?"

 

The room is starting to spin a little bit. Ichigo desperately wants to sit down, but he has to get back to his room.

 

"I will be fine, Theodred. Go to bed."

 

Ichigo turns a steps back out, shutting the door behind him. He takes three steps, and promptly collapses.

 

Of course.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The next time Ichigo wakes up, he finds Theoden at his side, sipping absently from a tankard of ale.

 

“ You’re quite the odd sort,” the blond remarks as Ichigo tries to sit up. “Most people would just call for a guard to escort my son back to his rooms. You carried him back, despite your weakness. Despite your unfamiliarity with the layout of my home.”

 

Ichigo shrugs.

 

“ I did not really think,” he admits, sitting up. “A little boy ought to be in bed by a certain hour. Even if he is a prince."

 

Theoden chuckles.

 

"I've told him that, but he's never listened to me before," he says, setting down his tankard on the little table beside the bed. "Now, I'm curious; why was he in your room in the first place, eh? He won't tell me."

 

Ichigo smiles.

 

"He wanted to check if my hair was made of fire," he informs the king. "He thought it might only be hot at night."

 

"..." Theoden pauses. "Where on earth did he get that idea?"

 

"Children are funny that way." Ichigo scratches absently at his shoulder. "So, how long was I asleep?"

 

"Unconscious, you mean." Theoden glances out the window. "Three days. Gandalf ended up putting you in a healing sleep when he realized you might get up before you're ready again. You should be fine, now."

 

"I feel good," the orangette admits. "Where are Éohidas and Ósle?"

 

"Working, I hope. We're having a feast, tonight, in celebration of the Equinox. Would you join us in the main hall?"

 

It’s a request. Ichigo's pleased it's not a command.

 

"Of course, Your Majesty." He bows his head slightly. "I would like to see more of this place- Gandalf said it was called... Rohan?"

 

Theoden nods.

 

"Rohan is my kingdom," he acknowledges. "And we are in its capital, Edoras."

 

"Oh." Ichigo frowns thoughtfully. "And... There are horses here? Ósle said there were."

 

"Of course." Theoden gives him an odd look. "Why do you ask?"

 

"I have never seen a horse- not a real one."

 

The king's eyes widen in surprise.

 

"Really? Do they not exist, where you're from?"

 

The orangette shakes his head.

 

"They are. I just never seen one. Seen? Or saw?"

 

"Saw." The king gets to his feet. "If you like, I can show you the stables. Once you're dressed, of course."

 

Ichigo pauses and looks down. He realizes he's bare again under the sheets.

 

"... Ah." He looks back up. "Yes. I would- I'd like that."

 

Theoden grins.

 

"Excellent. Do you remember the way to the garden?" He asks.

 

"Yes."

 

"Then I'll wait wait for you there. Be quick, though. It's bad manners to keep a king waiting."

 

Ichigo chuckles and dips his head.

 

"Yes, Your Majesty."

 

Theoden leaves him, and Ichigo rises, scanning the room for something to wear. He spies a tunic and trousers folded neatly on the trunk at the foot of his bed, and he slips them on quickly. The brown of this tunic is lighter than the one he wore before, but overall, it's the same. He slips on the boots he finds from before, belts the tunic, and goes to the garden.

 

Theoden is speaking with someone when he spies Ichigo in the entrance. He beckons the orangette over with an easy motion.

 

"Eadbearn, this is Ichigo, son of Masaki. Master Ichigo, this is Eadbearn, the Second Marshal of the Riddermark- the second in command of my army."

 

Eadbearn is an older man with streaks of white in his fair hair. He smiles when Ichigo looks at him, offering a hand.

 

"So you are the mysterious Sunstar that fell nearly a month ago," he says when Ichigo reaches out to shake. "I was beginning to think my wife was telling tales— Éohides being my wife."

 

Ichigo's eyes widen in surprise and he smiles.

 

"Oh!"

 

Eadbearn chuckles.

 

"She says she's been teaching you the Common Tongue," he says. "Tell me, has she been teaching you well?"

 

Ichigo dips his head. "I am much better off than I was before," he says. "Though I a- I'm still learning."

 

"From what I understand, his language grows by leaps and bounds," Theoden says. "I imagine he had some sort of instruction before coming to us."

 

Ichigo dips his head.

 

"Children from my homeland are taught the Common Tongue in school, along with basic reading and writing," he admits. "It is very different from my mother tongue, however. I have trouble with it."

 

"And what is your homeland?" Eadbearn inquires.

 

"It is called Japan." At the man's clueless look, Ichigo shrugs. "It is… Far away."

 

The man arches an eyebrow, but says nothing, and Theoden steps in.

 

"I promise you a tour of the stables, Master Ichigo," he says, catching Ichigo by the shoulder. "Shall we?"

 

"Ah- yes." Ichigo gives a slight bow. "It was nice meeting you... Master Eadbearn."

 

The man lets out a throaty laugh.

 

"Call me Eadbearn, Sunstar. Everyone does." Bowing his head to Theoden, Eadbearn leaves them.

 

Ichigo turns to Theoden.

 

"Why did he call me Sunstar?"

 

"It is the name you've been given by my people," Theoden tells him as they walk. "It comes from our language- Gimma means both sun and star."

 

"Gimma?" Ichigo pauses. "It is... A second name?"

 

"Great Men have many names," the king says. "As do many of the Elves and the Dwarves, in the old tales. I'm certain you will gain more, as time goes on. You do not seem the sort..." He trails off, then starts again. "You feel as though you are meant to do great things."

 

Ichigo huffs an embarrassed laugh. He’s heard similar things before. He’s never really believed them.

 

"Thank you for saying so, your Majesty."

 

"Are you embarrassed? You shouldn't be. It is only an observation." Theoden points to a long building at the base of the hill. "There are the stables, where the horses of our soldiers are kept. Since you've never seen a horse, I assume you've never ridden."

 

Ichigo shakes his head.

 

"No. Is it difficult?"

 

The blond laughs.

 

"We shall teach you as we teach all children— practically." The man grins at Ichigo's worried frown.

 

"Don't fret— I don't mean to frighten you on your first day up and about. We'll just look, for now."

 

Ichigo smiles gratefully.

 

"I don't want to embarrass myself so soon out of bed," he says. "With my luck, I'll fall off and hurt my head."

 

"Oh, I very much doubt that. You walk with the grace of a mountain cat— I doubt your balance is poor enough for a horse to toss you." Theoden tilts his head. "Are you a warrior, in your country?"

 

Ichigo shrugs.

 

"After a fashion," he says. "I have skill in hand-to-hand combat, and I can use a sword." He pauses to glance at where a few children no older than ten practice archery. "I've never used a bow, though."

 

"You do not hunt, then."

 

The orangette shakes his head.

 

"There was no need," he explains, deciding to skip over things like grocery stores and fast food. “My— my people are island dwellers. We eat mostly fish and chicken, usually with rice."

 

"I've heard of that," Theoden remarks. "The Men from the South occasionally would trade with Gondor, and would bring brown and white grains. I ate it when I was young."

 

"It is a staple of Japanese diet," Ichigo tells him. "We eat it at every meal, if we can."

 

"Fascinating." Theoden points up. "Do you see that carving? Above the stable door?"

 

Ichigo pauses.

 

"Is that your..." He trails off. "I do not know the word."

 

"It is the symbol of my house and country," the blond explains. "The leaping horse is the mark of the Rohirrim- our skills in riding are so that our neighbors calls us the Horse Lords."

 

Ichigo opens his mouth to reply, but is dumbstruck the moment they step inside.

 

Soldiers and stable boys scramble to bow as Theoden passes by, but he pays them no mind, amused by the look of wonder that has overtaken the teen's face.

 

"They are beautiful," the orangette says, eyes roving over coats of white, gray, brown, and black. "Are they all so big?"

 

"The war horses are," Theoden answers. "They're geldings, for the most part, trained to bite and kick. We keep cart horses and the like separate. The couriers all have mares- they're  smaller, and swifter."

 

Ichigo doesn't understand but he doesn't really care, either.

 

"Can I see?" He asks. "All of them."

 

Theoden grins at the teen's excitement.

 

"If you like- you can even touch a few of the others- the horses used by the Rohirrim are not suitable for a green fellow like yourself."

 

Ichigo's brow furrows in confusion.

 

"What do you mean by that?"

 

"I mean that you aren't trained to deal with great, violent beasts as of yet," the king replies. "Come; the mares are gentler by far, and will allow you to touch, if you wish."

 

Ichigo nods and Theoden leads him through to the next wing of the stables.

 

"A mare is a female," the blond explains. "Smaller than our warhorses, they're nimble enough to ride through the orc-infested parts of the surrounding territories."

 

"Ah." Ichigo ignores the unfamiliar word and slips from Theoden's side, approaching the horses with careful intrigue. The horses watch him with interest, but don't shy away when he reaches out cautiously, letting them wuffle at his hand.

 

And then-

 

"Ow!"

 

Theoden snorts as a familiar strawberry roan catches the orangette lightly by the hair and tugs, pulling him from the others towards her stall.

 

"Your Majesty!"

 

"Don't look so frightened, Master Ichigo- she just wants to have a look at you."

 

The mare makes a noise that might be agreement and proceeds to brush her soft nose along Ichigo's head, face and neck. He squeezes his eyes shut, expecting a bite.

 

And then, a long, wet tongue swipes across his cheek.

 

"Oh!"

 

"It seems she likes you, Master Ichigo." Theoden can't keep his amusement hidden. Ichigo looks completely flummoxed, uncertain how to react to the horse that is now demanding to be pet, pushing its nose into his shoulder. "That's quite the accomplishment."

 

"Why do you say that?" Ichigo asks, obeying the mare's demand and petting her gently.

 

"She is one of the maeras— a breed of horse descended from the north. The breed is long-lived, and incredibly intelligent."

 

Ichigo frowns thoughtfully at the mare.

 

"She is beautiful," he says after a moment. "Is it common, to have a coat like hers?"

 

"Her coat is common enough, though we rarely see it among the  _ maeras _ ," Theoden admits, casting an eye over the pale flanks and dull red mane. "We call her Fracod. It means wicked, in the language of my people."

 

"Is she deserving of such a name?" Ichigo asks, frowning. "She doesn't seem wicked to me."

 

"That's because she likes you," Theoden informs him. "In four years, she has allowed a total of three people to touch her- a stable girl, myself, and now you." He tilts his chin at the mare. "Usually, she stays in her stall when I am with a stranger. However, she seems to have deemed you acceptable company."

 

Ichigo is uncertain what to do with that knowledge, so he chooses to ignore it in favor of stepping closer to Fracod's flank.

 

Theoden is content to watch him, interrupting him only to pass him small treats from his pocket for Fracod.

 

And then, the quiet is ruined by a shout.

 

"What's that?"

 

Theoden notes the sudden alertness that floods Ichigo's body, the way his eyes dart to all exits and his body relaxes and tenses at the same time.

 

Interesting.

 

"It's just training, I imagine," the king says off-handedly. "We're near the practice grounds. Would you like to see?"

 

Ichigo nods, pulling away from Fracod with a final pat.

 

She catches him by the sleeve, whinny muffled by the fabric.

 

Ichgio jumps when Theoden barks something in Rohirric (Ichigo assumes), and the horse lets go.

 

The blond smiles.

 

"Come. Perhaps you can show us some of your own skill, if you're feeling up to it?"

 

Ichigo shrugs.

 

"I feel well enough," he says. "I wouldn't mind."

 

Theoden seems pleased by this response, which Ichigo finds distantly amusing. This is the first person since the war who has shown any interest or pleasure in Ichigo’s instinctive love of fighting. After a year of ‘keep your head down’ and ‘this is your chance for a normal life’, Ichigo finds it refreshing.

 

The training ground Theoden takes him to seems to be meant for older, hardened warriors. Their eyes all find their king and his guest, but they only nod, returning to their weapons and armor with little more than a simple acknowledgement.

 

“ This is where the senior officers of the Rohirrim train,” he tells Ichigo. “You said you know hand-to-hand?”

 

The orangette flashes a smile.

 

“ People say I’m very good,” he admits. “I think I am, too.”

 

Theoden smiles.

 

“ Well, I wouldn’t mind a demonstration,” he says. “Hereward!”

 

One of the younger men looks up from where he draws a whetstone across his blade. He stands.

 

“ Your Majesty?”

 

“ I’d like to test the skills of Master Ichigo,” Theoden says, gesturing to Ichigo. “Who, in your opinion, is the best hand-to-hand specialist of those assembled here?”

 

Hereward pauses, curious eyes darting to Ichigo.

 

“ I’d say myself, my lord,” he says after a moment, quirking a smile. “None of the rest of these old buggers are quick enough to be any good anymore.”

 

His words cause a wave of grumbled disagreement, along with a lone voice’s promise of a good spanking for ‘slandering the names of his elders’, but Ichigo can feel the good-humor of it all, just like the old days among the eleventh.

 

Theoden doesn’t seem to mind, either way.

 

“ If what you say is true, then you’ll be able to defeat Master Ichigo,” he says. “Am I right?”

 

“ Well, worst comes to worst, I can always sit on him, my lord,” Hereward replies amiably. “He’s thin as a whip.”

 

The men around them chuckle, and even Ichigo allows a smile.

 

“ I’d like to see you try,” he replies, eyes darting over Hereward’s form. “In fact…” He glances at Theoden. “If we could, your Majesty?”

 

Theoden gestures at an empty patch of the training grounds.

 

“ Off you go, then.”

 

Hereward grins and offers Ichigo a hand to shake.

 

“ Hope it’s a good fight then, Master Ichigo,” he says. “I don’t want to be thinking you’re as useless as you look.”

 

Ichigo shrugs, heading towards the space that widens even more in anticipation of a fight.

 

“ First one to sit on the other wins,” he calls over his shoulder. “Since you mentioned it.”

 

“ Fair enough. I’ll try not to squash you.”

 

Hereward tenses, knees bent, and Ichigo can’t help but think of the eleventh again.

 

He bounces on the balls of his feet, fists at the ready.

 

It’s just like home.


	3. Chapter 3

The fight isn’t worth remembering— at least, not where Ichigo’s concerned. Hereward is a good fighter, but he is heavy and slow where Ichigo is light-footed and agile. The fight doesn’t last five minutes, and ends with Ichigo planted firmly on Hereward’s chest while the bigger Man pants from exertion.

 

“ Have I won yet?” he asks the man politely, arching an eyebrow.

 

“ You’re damn heavy,” Hereward tells him. “Get off, before my ribs shatter.”

 

Ichigo obeys, offering a hand to lever the other man to his feet.

 

Hereward grins.

 

“ I’ve never seen a style like yours before,” he says. “Though I wouldn’t be surprised if the elves had something similar. There all supposed to be slight little things, too.”

 

“ I’m not so small as you keep implying,” Ichigo points out, frowning. “Elves?”

 

“ Another race of Middle Earth,” Theoden explains, coming closer. “I must say, I am impressed, Master Ichigo. Few Men have beaten Hereward so soundly as you have.”

 

Ichigo shrugs and glances at the Man who still is staring at him with bright, interested eyes. The other soldiers are quiet, intent on their conversation.

 

“ I’ve fought most of my life, your Majesty,” he explains. “It comes naturally to me.”

 

Theoden gives him a long look.

 

“ So it seems,” he says after a moment. “And we shall talk more of this later, to be sure. But now, I think, the feast is nearly prepared, and I’m certain Ósle’s decided to dress you up.”

 

Ichigo blinks. “What?"

 

“ Ósle is the daughter of my head seamstress,” the king explains as he leads Ichigo away with a wave. “And she likes you. She also takes feasts very seriously, and agrees that everyone ought to look their best. Your clothes now are serviceable, of course, but Theodred has asked to be seated beside you.” Theoden smiles at Ichigo’s astonishment. “With how strongly of a liking he’s taken to you, I might need you to join the guard, if only to make certain you do not leave.”

 

Ichigo hums in understanding.

 

“ Would you accept, if I offered you a position?”

 

Ichigo freezes mid-step.

 

“ What?”

 

“ If I offered you a position among the guard, would you take it?”

 

“ I… Don’t take offense, your Majesty, but you’ve known me for a day.”

 

Theoden chuckles.

 

“ Two days, actually, not counting the time you were unconscious — though I’m certain my advisors would be quite cross with me, if they knew I was offering you a position,” he admits easily. “But there is something curiously honest about you, Master Ichigo, and something compassionate. You seem trustworthy, and you’ve just proven yourself able. It would be easy enough for you to prove your worth, and besides— Theodred likes you. He might not be as likely to slip away if he likes the Man in charge of his wellbeing.”

 

The orangette stares for a long moment, then says, carefully,

 

“ I’m only eighteen.”

 

“ I think the greater problem is that you cannot ride, but that can be fixed easily enough.” Theoden throws an easy arm over Ichigo’s shoulders. “So. Do you accept?”

 

Ichigo swallows. It would be best to make connections as quickly as he can. The quicker he’s settled, the simpler life is, and the easier it will be to… Well, forget is a harsh word.

 

“ I think you ought not rush a decision, your Majesty,” he says after a moment. “Take some time to think on it. You wouldn’t want to put your son’s life in the hands of someone you don’t trust completely.”

 

Theoden frowns, but does not disagree.

 

“ Then perhaps I shall wait,” he says. “Though I do not think I will change my mind. You only prove yourself more honorable, telling me to wait. But you will stay, unless you have a purpose here in Middle Earth?”

 

“…  I have no purpose but to live,” Ichigo tells him. “And if I can stay here for a while, I will.”

 

Theoden smiles.

 

“ You may stay as long as you like,” he says. “And perhaps I will teach you to ride.”

 

“ I… Thank you, your Majesty.”

 

Theoden doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. Ósle finds them before the silence between them becomes uncomfortable.

 

“ Master Ichigo, there you are! Come on, come on, you must get dressed…”

 

Curtsying mid-step at her king, the servant catches Ichigo by his elbow and tugs him away, back into the main house.

 

Theoden shakes his head, smiling to himself.

 

Ósle’s always been forceful.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“ Are you sure about this, Ósle? It seem pretentious.”

 

“ How do you even know that word?” The woman asks, tugging at the edge of his long-sleeved tunic. It’s a mustard yellow, this time, lighter than her previous choices, and belted with a thick strap of brown leather. His trousers are brown again, and she lets him keep his boots, but not after a ‘quick clean’.

 

“ It’s the Feast of Lords you’ll be going to,” she tells him, running a hand through his hair. “The entire court will be there, looking as  _ pretentious _ as they can. And you, you’ll be sitting beside their prince. You have to look nice.”

 

“ And the sun?” Ichigo gestures to the arm band she’s settled on his shoulder like a fukutaicho’s badge, a red cloth with a stitched yellow sun.

 

“ Éohides made it, and I’m not going to argue with her.” Ósle looks him in the eye. “Are you?”

 

Ichigo pinches his lips.

 

“…  No.”

 

“ That’s what I thought. Beside,” she says, stepping back. “People need to know who you are. Your story has traveled far already, Gimma.”

 

Ichigo makes a face.

 

“ I’ve been here two weeks— not even that long.”

 

“ And Men are gossips,” she replies stoutly. “Now. Off you go to the main hall. Do you remember the the way?”

 

“ Yes. I think.” Ichigo goes to open the door to find Theodred waiting for him, one little hand raised to knock.

 

He smiles brightly up at the teen.

 

“ Master Ichigo, it’s almost time for the feast,” he says brightly. “Father said you’ll sit with me.”

 

Ichigo smiles at him, lifting him easily up into his arms.

 

“ If you want me to, I shall,” he says easily, brushing a stray lock of blond out of the boy’s eyes. “So long as you promise to eat whatever is put in front of you.”

 

The boy makes a face.

 

“ Everything but the cabbage soup,” he says. “It tastes bad.”

 

Ichigo huffs a laugh.

 

“ I don’t believe you,” he says. “I’ll have to try it myself before I agree to that.”

 

“ Oh, Master Ichigo, before you go!”

 

Ichigo turns to find Ósle digging through a small wooden box on the night stand; the box he hasn’t thought to touch since he first noticed it.

 

“ You were wearing this, when they found you,” Ósle explains, offering the trinket to him. “Lord Theoden asked us to keep it safe for you. It’s best left off, I think, but for a feast such as this, perhaps it would do.”

 

Ichigo blinks. In her hand sits a heavy silver ring set with a small, ruby-like stone. The sight of it makes his heart clench.

 

“ I thought I’d lost this,” he murmurs, taking it. “Thank you, Ósle.”

 

He slips it on his middle finger and sets Theodred back down, slipping the ring onto his left middle finger.

 

“ Lead on, little one.”

 

The prince smiles and takes his hand.

 

“ The Feast of Lords is the most fun all year!” he tells Ichigo earnestly. “There’s dancing and spring things and songs and father lets me stay up all night—“

 

He continues all the way to the hall, where they’re met by Theoden.

 

“ Theodred, you’ll tire Master Ichigo out before the feast,” his father chides, but there is a warmth in his gaze as he lifts his son up into his arms.

 

“ I don’t mind,” Ichigo says with an easy smile. “I’ve never been to something like this.”

 

“ You do not have feasts, where you come from?”

 

“ We have festivals— but I think we celebrate differently from you.” He runs a hand through his hair sheepishly. “It’s… I’ve never really traveled much, before. It’s a change, certainly. But a good one, I think.”

 

Theoden grins. “Just you wait— there’s merriment to be had, tonight,” he says, leading him towards the main hall. “This is a celebration of the end of winter, and the music will flow as freely as the ale.”

 

The doors of the main hall open, and Ichigo is overwhelmed by good smells, music, and the golden light of of torches and hearths.

 

He thinks he quite agrees.


	4. Chapter 4

Theodred was right, the cabbage soup really is disgusting. On principal, though, Ichigo eats every bite in his bowl, and makes certain Theodred does, too.

 

(He makes up for it, though, later, when the cakes are brought out. He makes sure Theodred gets extras.)

 

Theoden, for the most part, seems amused by Ichigo’s behavior. By the delicacy in which he holds his utensils, the furtive glances he gives Theoden and the others seated around him before picking up a chicken leg with his fingers. He’s worried about the  _ etiquette _ , as if anyone bothers with that nonsense on a night like tonight.

 

Eadbearn, at least, makes a point to converse with Ichigo normally. Many of the others— even among the Rohirrim— are cautious, on guard because of his looks, his accent, and his apparent closeness with the king. The sun on his arm doesn’t help matters, either.

 

Theoden has to hand it to Eadbearn’s wife. She has a keen mind for all things politics.

 

At this point, everyone but the children is a tad bit drunk. Even Ichigo, who’d made a face at the taste of the strong ale at first sip, is leaning a tad heavily on the arm of his chair as he explains to Eadbearn the Harvest Festival of his people.

 

“ We have a celebration in March, as well,” Theoden hears him say. “And it’s more of a… Celebration of new life, than just spring itself. It ridiculous, actually, and involves the priests of one of our religions…”

 

Theoden looks back to the smaller tables. A fight’s broken out between the soldiers, not unexpected, now that the drink truly flows. It’s loud, but not as loud as the crowd that eggs the trouble on. In another corner, a song has broken out, louder still.

 

Among all the confusion, Theoden doesn’t notice the shadow moving among the beams above his head. No one does, until the arrow flies.

 

Theoden wouldn’t have seen it all if it hadn’t been aimed for Theodred, and he wouldn’t have been able to react, in any case, until it was too late.

 

When the king processes what’s happened, he realizes that, instead of the sight of his only son pinned to his seat by the throat, he sees a fist decorated with a ring of ruby, clenched tightly around the wood of the arrow.

 

Ichigo’s eyes are dark, his lips drawn back in a snarl as the bowman leaps agilely from his post, towards the door.

 

Ichigo drops the arrow and reaches for Eadbearn’s knife, still in his belt. He vaults over the table just as the soldiers begin to collect themselves to make chase, bolting out the door after the would-be assassin.

 

“ After him!” Theoden orders, and the silence of the hall is broken as the soldiers hasten to obey.

 

He will not escape.

  
  


*.*

  
  


The bowman has a horse, but Ichigo doesn’t care. His boots are good, light and strong, and he’s running down hill, regardless. The assassin’s not a mile outside of the gates when Ichigo catches up to him.

 

He leaps forward, knife flashing as he cuts the back tendons of the horse. It collapses within a few yards, allowing Ichigo to drag the man to his feet.

 

“ You dare?” he snarls, dragging the man to eye-level and shaking him. “Such a cowardly move as to aim for a child. Have you no shame?”

 

The man spits. He shakes him harder.

 

“ Who are you?”

 

There’s a sudden pain in his side. He looks down and realizes the man’s stabbed him.

 

Ichigo swears.

 

“ Oh, now you’ve pissed me off,” he hisses in Japanese, catching the man by both wrists and snapping them. He’s lost Eadbearn’s knife somewhere in the grass.

 

The man howls in pain, and Ichigo takes the opportunity to kick him in the kneecap, grunting as more pain shoots through his nerves.

 

As the man topples, Ichigo looks up to see Men on horses, some carrying torches, others carrying bows.

 

He waves.

 

“ I’ve got him,” he calls as they draw closer. “He’s… Unable to fight.”

 

“ Is he dead?” One of them calls back. Ichigo recognizes the voice as Eadbearn’s.

 

“ No. I broke his wrists. Possibly his knee.”

 

The horseman at the front trots closer, and the rider dismounts.

 

“ You run like an Elf,” Eadbearn remarks as he steps closer, torch hoisted high. “Not many can outstrip a horse at full speed, and you did so quite easily.”

 

Ichigo shrugs, wincing in pain at the movement.

 

“ I’ve always been fast,” he says as another rider hauls the assassin up from the ground. “It’s not so special.”

 

“ I beg to differ,” Eadbearn answers. “But I suppose— Master Ichigo, are you hurt?”

 

Ichigo looks down where he has absently pressed his hand to his wound. Pulling away, he finds his fingers are dark with blood.

 

“ He managed to prick me,” he admits. “It’s not so bad as it looks, I think.”

 

“ We’ll see about that,” Eadbearn tells him. “Come on. Up.”

 

Clumsily, Ichigo gets onto the horse, pointedly ignoring the pain as he settles awkwardly in the saddle.

 

“ Theoden was right,” the Second Marshall remarks as he kicks the horse into a gallop toward Edoras. “You really never have been on a horse.”

 

“ I think I’d rather run,” he admits, clutching awkwardly at Eadbearn’s broad shoulders as he’s jostled. “This is uncomfortable.”

 

“ Sir!” cries one of the others, catching up to them. “He wears the colors of the Line of Cynebald!"

 

Ichigo feels Eadbearn’s muscles stiffen under his fingers. 

 

“ Ride ahead,” he orders. “Warn the king!”

 

“ I can run faster,” Ichigo hisses.

 

“ You’re injured!”

 

“ Still faster!” Hooking on foot over the edge of the saddle, Ichigo forces himself up and off, tumbling into the grass head first and rolling.

 

His side aches, but he’s right, he still is faster, outstripping the horseman easily enough and rushing through the still-open gates and up the steps.

 

“ Your Majesty!”

 

Blood soaks the wooden floors, and Ichigo thanks whatever gods exist in this world that the wood is too rough to become slippery.

 

The bodies are… Familiar. Stomach-turning, but familiar. Ichigo does his best to ignore them, moving through the maze of corpses as carefully as he can without losing speed. He must find the prince. He must find the king.

 

The safest place in the keep has to be the king’s rooms, right?

 

First, Ichigo needs a weapon, though. Something off the wall will do well enough.

 

A blade— long and thin, elegant in its own way— is the first thing his hand grabs. It’s the most similar to a katana that he’s seen since landing, and it draws beautifully, just in time to skewer a man who leaps at him from the hall leading towards his own room.

 

Ichigo figures that, so long as he keeps getting attacked, he’s going in the right direction.

 

One, two, three dead, and then—

 

“ Your line has ruled long enough, Theoden!”

 

Bingo.

 

Carefully, Ichigo peers into the king’s rooms. A young man, not much older than Ichigo himself, has Theodred pinned to his chest, a knife to his throat. An older woman with streaks of gray in her long, blonde hair, is standing tall against Theoden, the tip of her sword pressed to his heart.

 

Over her shoulder, Theoden’s eyes meet Ichigo’s.

 

Ichigo throws the sword. It hits its mark, pinning the man holding Theodred to the wall by his eye.

 

“ Adalbrecht—“ the woman cries out, shocked, but Ichigo’s already moving, twining one hand in her hair and pulling while the other reaches up and deftly dislocates her shoulder.

 

“ Father!” Ichigo tosses the woman to one side as Theodred wrestles himself free of the dead man and rushes to his father.

 

Theoden scoops him up in his arms, hugging him tightly.

 

“ Theodred.” The prince is sobbing into the silk of Theoden’s tunic, little fingers curled into the slippery fabric in a white-knuckled grip.

 

“ My lord—“ Eadbearn and the horseman who’d told them of the Cynebald Line’s betrayal stop in the doorway, breathless and wide-eyed.

 

Ichigo steps away to dig the sword out of the wall. They’ll want to see their king is well, after all.

 

The blade really is beautiful, he realizes as he wipes it clean on the dead man’s shirt. The steel of the sword has a blue tinge to it, giving it an oddly ethereal quality.

 

“ Master Ichigo.”

 

He looks up. Theoden still has Theodred in his arms, though now that Ichigo looks closer, he realizes the older man is bleeding.

 

“ You’re wounded, your Majesty,” he points out, sheathing the blade and setting it down. “Perhaps you should see a doctor.”

 

Theoden ignores that, focusing instead on Ichigo, on Ichigo’s sword.

 

“ You saved both my life and the life of my son,” Theoden says heavily. “And you haven’t been in our company a full day.”

 

“ It seemed the thing to do. I’m fast, and when I saw the blood in the hall...” Oh right, blood. He looks down and realizes that damn, he’s lost a lot of it. “Shit.”

 

It hits him all at once, the lightheadedness and the weakness in his bones. His knees buckle, and he probably would have kissed the flagstone floor if not for the fact that Eadbearn saw it coming.

 

“ He’s overreached himself,” the Second Marshall says sharply. “He needs medical attention, as do you, my lord. Kenelm!”

 

The other rider, who’d been glaring at him from under his mane of tangled black hair, starts at his name and bows.

 

“ Yes, commander.”

 

He disappears from the room, and Ichigo huffs a tired laugh.

 

“ Not even a day and I get myself into trouble,” he grunts, forcing himself still. “Are you certain you want me in your guard, your Majesty?”

 

The king studies him for a moment.

 

“ So long as you don’t die, I demand it.”

 

Ichigo rubs a hand over his face. Well, at least this man seems to be a good sort. And it means he’d have somewhere to stay, for now.

 

“ As you wish, your Majesty.”


	5. Chapter 5

“ So, elves actually exist here?”

 

Theoden blinks at the question. He’s taking his meal with Ichigo, today, in a smaller chamber close to the kitchens. The physicians have recently changed Ichigo’s bandages— the bitter scent of the salve reaches Theoden’s nose with every movement Ichigo makes.

 

“ Yes. In the forests of Mirkwood and Lothlórien, and in Rivendell. Why do you ask?”

 

“ Gandalf said something about them, and everyone keeps comparing me to them.” Ichigo sips his tea— he prefers it over ale, Theoden’s found— and shrugs. “I was just curious.”

 

“ We rarely see their kind,” Theoden offers as Ichigo pops a potato into his mouth. “Only in times of great despair. They’re a strange sort— the elves of Mirkwood speak to the trees, for instance, or the waters, while those of Lothlórien glow with an eery light. They are beautiful, however, fast and strong, with long lives and skills perfected over centuries.”

 

He pauses thoughtfully. “The sword that you used to save my son is of Elvish make. It is called Angrenûr. The last Man who drew it was slain nearly a hundred years ago.”

 

“ ... It’s very old.”

 

“ And is perhaps ready to leave retirement.” Theoden smiles. “I want you to have it.”

 

Ichigo’s eyes widen.

 

“ My lord,” he says, because Eabearn says that Theoden prefers it. “You don’t need to give me anything. You’ve given me enough.”

 

“ But Master Ichigo, I am a giving man,” the blond answers with a smile. “And besides, my guards must have weapons, even ones so skilled in hand-to-hand as you are.”

 

Ichigo rolls his eyes, reaching for his tea again.

 

There’s no use arguing with a king.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“ How old are you when you learn to ride, again?”

 

Hereward grins at Ichigo’s awkward position on the back of one of the gentler mares. It’s been a month, and so far, Ichigo’s learned just about everything necessary, except ride.

 

“ As soon as we can keep our balance,” he tells Ichigo cheerfully, slapping his calf to fix Ichigo’s seating. “So, four or five. Don’t take it to heart, Master Ichigo— we have all gone through this!”

 

The orangette grimaces, running a hand through his hair while the other clutches painfully at the horn.

 

“ Can’t I just run?” he complains as Hereward decides him ready enough.

 

“ Now where’s the fun in that?” He smacks the horse’s hindquarters as he speaks, laughing as the horse takes off, forcing Ichigo with it.

 

“ Bastard!”

 

Ichigo can’t make the damn creature stop. It gallops through the fields, bouncing him painfully in the saddle.

 

No, fuck this.

 

Pushing himself up so he’s balanced on his feet in the saddle, he pushes up and rolls.

 

The horse keeps going, indifferent to the lack of Ichigo’s weight and, indeed, probably pleased by it.

 

Ichigo glances across the field to see Hereward galloping towards him, shit-eating grin splitting his face.

 

“ Balance is certainly not a problem for you, Master Ichigo,” he calls as he slows to a stop. “You practically stood in the saddle!”

 

“ You’re a bastard,” Ichigo informs him, getting to his feet. “And I despise you for it.”

 

Hereward continues to grin, offering a hand.

 

“ Don’t worry about the horse. They always return to our stables.”

 

“ Clever beasts,” Ichigo says, ignoring Hereward’s helpful hand. “Race you back to the stables.”

 

Hereward kicks his horse into a gallop the moment he hears the word ‘race’, but still, he is no match for Ichigo.

 

He finds the orangette teasing Fracod with sugar cubes, seated on a bundle of hay in her stable. He’s talking with another rider, complaining.

 

“ I can’t get the damn things to listen to me,” he grunts to Wulfric, an older rider with gray in his brown-black hair. “It’s irritating.”

 

Wulfric chuckles. “You’re one who is used to learning quickly. Riding is difficult, if one begins his learning late. You must be patient.”

 

“ Even if he does learn, he will never ride as well as the rest. What good is a rider who cannot ride?”

 

Hereward starts at the voice behind him. He turns to see Kenelm.

 

“ Lieutenant.”

 

Kenelm doesn’t seem to notice him. His eyes are fixed on Ichigo.

 

“ Why would the king choose such a weak rider to guard the prince?” he asks. “And a foreigner, at that.”

 

The orangette shrugs.

 

“ My charm and good looks, I imagine— also, perhaps, the fact that I threw a sword through the eye of a potential child killer. That might have something to do with it.”

 

Kenelm’s lip curls.

 

“ Skill in combat is only a facet of a soldier,” he says spitefully. “Loyalty, honor— those are others. But what is most important to a rider of the Rohirrim is the ability use their most important tool— the horse on which they ride.”

 

Ichigo nods thoughtfully.

 

“ All good points,” he remarks. “Okay. Give me three weeks. You can test me yourself to see how I ride.”

 

Kenelm scoffs.

 

“ Three weeks? You can barely sit in the saddle.”

 

“ But I can stand in it.” Ichigo tilts his head, smiling in a way that reminds him painfully of a certain shopkeeper. “Come on, we’ll have a race. It’ll be fun.”

 

“ ... Very well. Three weeks.”

 

With that, Kenelm disappears back out to the training grounds.

 

There’s a beat of silence.

 

“ That was a poor move, Master Ichigo,” Wulfric says gravely. “Kenelm is one of the best riders the Rohirrim has seen in nearly thirty years.”

 

Ichigo shrugs.

 

“ Then his envy will be soothed with a win,” he answers, returning his attentions to Fracod. “And he’ll leave me alone. Probably.”

 

“ Unlikely.” They all jump as a new voice joins them.

 

“ Commander.”

 

Eadbearn’s gaze is grave as he assesses Ichigo’s easy posture and attentive face.

 

“ Kenelm is a son of a lesser line,” he tells the orangette. “Though he is skilled, he is hardheaded and unable to obey anyone but himself. Not only that, but you have been offered a place in the king’s own home— a dream he has been nursing since he first came to Edoras. Though his own position is one of great prestige, he believes the Royal Guard is better suited to him and his tastes.”

 

“ Is one more prestigious than the other?” Ichigo inquires, frowning slightly.

 

“ It can be argued that the third Marshall has more power, politically, but to be of the Royal Guard is to dine with the king himself, to become near to family. It is a more ambitious dream than most would prefer, and has therefore permanently kept his name from ever reaching the ears of the king beyond what is necessary as the third Marshall.”

 

Ichigo makes a face. “That’s silly.”

 

“ Alas, it’s the truth,” Wulfric tells him. “The commander’s right. He won’t leave you be until something truly awful happens.”

 

“ Our own, he can handle,” Hereward adds, sending Ichigo a sympathetic look. “But you are a foreigner, with strange looks and speech and strength. It rattles him more than any of us ever could.”

 

Ichigo groans as Fracod begins to lick at his hair.

 

“ And I have a race with him in three weeks. And I can’t make a damn horse stop when I want it to.”

 

Eadbearn eyes Fracod speculatively.

 

“ Well, maybe I can help you with that.”

  
  


*.*

  
  


“ You’re joking.”

 

Theoden grins at Ichigo’s flat glare.

 

“ Eadbearn tells me you can’t control your horse,” he explains as Theodred bounces on his knee. “Now, I’m sure many will tell me that it is because of your failings—“ he ignores Ichigo’s flush of frustration and embarrassment. “— But I find that, more often than not, it has to do with the lack of a partnership between horse and rider. I usually insist on our riders raising their own horses when they first begin training, but you have missed such an opportunity.”

 

“ That doesn’t explain why you’re allowing me to ride Fracod,” the orangette points out. “Hereward’s told me about the  _ maeras _ . Only the King and his line may ride them.”

 

“ Fracod won’t let many near her, and I rarely have the chance to ride her,” Theoden answers. “A good horse unridden is a waste, and she likes you well enough. You might have better luck with her than with the spares you’ve been riding so far.”

 

“ I—“ Ichigo shakes his head. “You’ve given me too much already, my lord. There’s no need for this.”

 

“ Master Ichigo, you’re being silly,” Theodred pipes up from his place. “Father wants to give you a horse. Take the horse and show you can ride so you can come with me everywhere.”

 

Ichigo blinks at the little boy, struck dumb by the childishly candid argument he’s been presented with.

 

Theoden’s grin just gets wider.

 

Ichigo bows his head.

 

“ Your line is strange,” Ichigo tells the king, mildly irritated.

 

“ There is certainly a kind of goodness in it, I think,” Theoden says agreeably. “Now. Tomorrow, you shall ride Fracod and we shall see how you fare.”

 

Ichigo huffs a sigh.

 

“ If nothing comes of it, I take it as a sign that I’m not meant to ride,” he answers, giving up. “And I will run with you, Theodred, from one side of Rohan to the other.”

 

Theodred giggles, and Theoden bounces him playfully.

 

“ It is not that I don’t believe you could do so,” Theoden explains good-naturedly. “It’s just that you’ll make my riders feel inadequate, should you decide to run rather than ride. It will damage their morale, you understand.”

 

Ichigo rolls his eyes, making Theoden chuckle quietly as he shifts a tankard towards Ichigo.

 

“ Drink,” he says. “You can argue in the morning.”

 

“ I’ll have a headache in the morning.”

 

“ All the better, as far as I’m concerned. Perhaps it will keep you quiet.”

 

Ichigo’s lip curls in a half-hearted snarl, but it doesn’t last.

 

“ You’re incorrigible, my lord.”

 

“ It runs in the family.”


	6. Chapter 6

“ Much better, Ichigo, much better!”

 

Hereward’s good cheer is infectious, and Ichigo’s too pleased to do anything but smile in the face of it. He hasn’t fallen off Fracod since he got on. He hasn’t had to jump off.

 

Theoden and Eadbearn had been right; riding Fracod was easier than any of the others.

 

“ It’s because she likes you,” Hereward explains as Ichigo dismounts carefully. “She’s a trusty horse, if a bit nippy—“ he draws back just as Fracod’s teeth click together in the space where his elbow used to be. “And anyway, the  _ maeras _ are smarter than normal horses. They can tell if their rider is inexperienced, and they compensate for it.”

 

Ichigo can tell. He also is under the impression that Fracod might... Might  _ understand  _ him, too. When he speaks. When he whispers curses in Japanese when they go too fast or he doesn’t feel like he’s in control. How else could she respond so well to him?

 

“ Master Ichigo! Master Hereward!”

 

They both turn to see Theoden galloping toward them, Theodred settled before him in the saddle. Hereward bows. Ichigo waves.

 

“Hello, your Majesty,” he greets. “Prince Theodred.”

 

“We thought we might see you before your race,” Theoden says as he slows. “You’ve gotten better.”

 

“Fracod’s a good girl,” Ichigo says, patting her side gently. “Thank you for letting me ride her.”

 

“It’s so you can be as fast as me,” Theodred says, turning up his nose. “When I get big enough Father will let me ride Hasufel, and he’s second only to Snowmane— you’ll never catch me.”

 

Ichigo laughs.

 

“If Fracod cannot keep up with you, I will run,” Ichigo says simply. “And I will outrun you, and you will look silly.”

 

“I would prefer you did not,” Theoden says. “Because then I would be forced to race you, and should you outstrip Snowmane I would have to duel you, and that is a duel I am uncertain I would win.”

 

“I would never duel you, your Majesty,” Ichigo says, grinning. “I am uncertain my pride would survive the beating I’m sure you would give me.”

 

“You are impetuous,” Theoden decides. “Come. It is nearly time for supper, and if I remember correctly, you are meant to be on patrol, Hereward.”

 

The man curses and kicks his horse into a gallop, racing for headquarters, leaving Ichigo to follow the king at a more leisurely pace.

 

“Your ride against Kenelm is tomorrow,” Theoden remarks. “How do you feel?”

 

“I will win,” Ichigo says. “That much I am certain of.”

 

“Of course,” Theoden says. “Of that I have no doubt.”

 

He smiles, and Ichigo finds himself smiling back. In general, he’s smiling a lot more, lately. 

 

There must be something in the water.

  
  


*.*

  
  


Ósle is there to wish him luck when he gets ready that morning, passing the little armband for him to wear as he rides— for luck, according to her.

 

Luck is the main reason he’s survived as long as he has, so he takes it, slipping it up past his elbow to rest comfortably along his bicep.

 

“I will win,” he says, nodding. “I will.”

 

Neither king nor prince are among the assembled when Ichigo leads Fracod out of the stable, but he supposes it’s for the best. Among the Rohirrim, it has already been made clear that he is favored, and would do nothing but worsen Kenelm’s naturally sour mood. 

 

Eadbearn, however, is there, and he offers Ichigo a small smile before addressing the group at large.

 

“You will ride to the edge of Fangorn Forest and back,” he says. “First to return will be declared the winner.”

 

“Understood, sir,” Ichigo says. Kenelm nods curtly in agreement.

 

“Very well. With that in mind… begin!”

  
  


*.*

  
  


The ride is… peaceful. Well, maybe not peaceful, Ichigo can’t imagine being able to nap or some such thing while on the back of a highly intelligent, quick beast like Fracod, who seems to have only the goal of jarring him painfully every third step. Perhaps… calming, is a better word. There is nothing to focus on save for ride, for Fracod’s heavy breaths and the sound of her hooves against hard dirt and dry grass. It’s nice, something Ichigo never thought he’d come to appreciate.

 

This world is a strange one, nothing like the world he left behind, but he finds he doesn’t mind it. Here, he is not powerless without his zanpakuto, and while his enhanced speed and strength— thanks for the heads up on that, Urahara— is odd, it is easily explained away by the very circumstances that led him to find Edoras anyway. He fell from the sky. If some of the legends are to be believed, that’s not the strangest thing to ever happen in Middle Earth.

 

He lost Kenelm early on in the race, choosing the slightly longer, slightly safer riding path as opposed to the more direct one. After evenings pouring over maps of Edoras and its surrounding lands, Ichigo decided this was the best way to work. While his riding has improved, he is not yet skilled enough to lead Fracod over the rocky outcroppings of the outer lands without harming her, and his horse’s speed will easily make up for the extra mile of riding he has added to their journey.

 

The  _ maeras _ take longer to tire than an ordinary horse. Theoden assured him that a ride as simple as this would do nothing to Fracod.

 

Yes, this ride will go smoothly. He will win, show himself to be an able rider, and while perhaps Kenelm will not be silenced, it will at least give Ichigo time to prove himself in his position, perhaps gain allies among the Rohirrim beyond Hereward and a handful of others.

 

The plan is a sound one, a reasonable one, and Ichigo’s feeling quite pleased with himself when he stops to take in the view from atop a flowered hill. Rohan is a beautiful kingdom, free and clear of all the things Ichigo has known. He hopes he can remain for a good, long time.

 

A sharp, piercing pain in his shoulder throws these thoughts to a grinding halt. Ichigo reaches up instinctively, turns his head to look, and narrowly avoids the second arrow that flies by his neck.

 

The fletching on the arrow is of a lesser House of Rohan.


	7. Chapter 7

It fucking hurts, being shot by a proper arrow. Not the same way it would when one of Ishida’s would hit, but it still sucks. Less of an immediate burn, more of an immediate  _ throb _ as blood tries to gush past the arrowhead. Ichigo isn’t a doctor’s son for nothing, so he doesn’t do what instinct demands and leaves it exactly where it is, save for breaking off the shaft.

 

He doesn’t have a weapon with him, just a small boot knife that Éohides gave him when she realized he didn’t carry. Kenelm— and it is Kenelm, the fletching leaves little question of that— clearly has at least a bow, though how, Ichigo isn’t sure. He doesn’t remember the man carrying anything when they rode out. Unless, of course, he’d hidden it sometime before. Ichigo had left him early on, he can’t be sure what happened in the time between the beginning of their race and now.

 

Another arrow whistles past Ichigo’s ear, causing him to duck. Fury sparks, a good combatant to the shock, and with a shout, he kicks Fracod into a gallop, racing across the the soft, spring grass towards Kenelm and his steed.

 

Arrows fly, but Fracod is clever, and Ichigo keeps himself pressed low to her back, face tucked against her shoulder.

 

Kenelm’s horse screams when she leaps over a rocky outcropping, apparently hidden from the fight thanks to a slight drop in the earth. Kenelm himself is stood high above, on a ridge that Fracod has no hope of climbing.

 

Ichigo, however, is perfectly capable.

 

The moment she’s close enough, Ichigo drops from her back, scrambling across sandy dirt and rough grass as he climbs, ducking the arrows that Kenelm lets fly. The man is a terrible shot, it seems— it was a lucky hit when he managed to pierce Ichigo’s shoulder.

 

Clearly, Kenelm doesn’t expect him to be as successful as he is in both dodging and climbing as Ichigo is, so when Ichigo does manage to throw an arm out to catch his ankle, Kenelm does what every honorable soldier would do and promptly kicks him in the face.

 

Ichigo has had his nose broken before, of course, but that doesn’t make the white hot, eye-watering pain any less. The fury that he’s been doing his best to hold onto so tightly breaks free, and with a violent pull, he topples Kenelm from his place.

 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t realize that, along with his terrible shot, Kenelm does not have good balance outside of a saddle, nor does he have the reflexes necessary to keep himself from rolling over the edge of the ridge. By the time Ichigo realizes this, his grip is not where it needs to be to keep hold of the man, the blood loss making his fingers weak.

 

Kenelm lets out an unholy scream as he drops. The fall isn’t far, of course, but Ichigo saw the stones that awaited him at the bottom. The crack when he hits, the sudden silence as his scream is cut off, tells Ichigo he’s unconscious at the very least, possibly dead if he landed wrong.

 

Ichigo doesn’t know how a concussion is handled in a medieval world, let alone a cracked skull. Kenelm will likely die from most injuries that could be sustained in such a fall.

 

Carefully, Ichigo lets himself slide back down the ridge, ignoring the dizziness that accompanies him when he stands.

 

“Kenelm!” he shouts, making his way around towards the rocks. “Kenelm, answer!”

 

There is a low, pained groan— which is good. The man may have tried to kill Ichigo, but Ichigo likes to think he’s better than that.

 

The man is in a crumpled heap among the stones, head bleeding sluggishly and staining his hair a murky red. Carefully, Ichigo leans over him, hands finding the man’s face, fingers checking for a pulse.

 

“Kenelm, do you understand me?” he asks. “Can you see me?”

 

The man’s blue eyes focus on him, his breath coming in little, wet gasps.

 

“Ichigo…”

 

Ichigo moves closer.

 

“Kenelm, don’t speak,” he says. “I must take you back to Edoras. The healers must tend to you— oh!”

 

Ichigo reaches for the new source of pain in his side, finding a fist and a small, silver-handled blade.

 

The shock makes him laugh.

 

“You’re quite desperate to kill me,” he says. “I applaud your determination.”

 

Carefully, Ichigo separates Kenelm’s hand from the knife.

 

“Unfortunately for you,” he says. “You’re going to die relatively quickly if I don’t get you back, and now I’m going to have trouble riding.”

 

“I will die,” Kenelm breathes. “But so will you?”

 

“How is that in any way productive?” Ichigo asks. “All you’ve done now is robbed the king of two able-bodied men— or one, at least.” He sits back, pulling Kenelm up over his shoulder as he goes. “Once I stop bleeding, I’ll heal. You… I’m not sure how badly injured you are, but it’s likely permanent. The brain is a delicate organ.”

 

“... I can’t feel my legs.” Kenelm’s breaths are becoming more and more labored with every unsteady step Ichigo takes.

 

“Your back’s probably broken, then,” Ichigo says, sighing. “You’ve crippled yourself in a desperate attempt to kill me. How depressing.”

 

Kenelm’s horse is tied to the rocks, so he tosses the man over the saddle and frees her from the rope.

 

“Home,” he orders, tapping her on the hindquarters. She starts into motion, fear forcing her into a full gallop. He hopes Kenelm has the decency to try and hold on. Ichigo doesn’t think he’ll be able to bring himself to care enough to stop and pick him up if he falls.

 

Fracod is waiting for him, nosing concernedly at his face when he gets close enough. He has to pull the blade in his side out if he wants to move quickly, or else he’ll only cut himself deeper. If he pulls it out, however, he’ll bleed more.

 

“You better move fast,” he mutters to Fracod, pulling the knife out with a hiss before leaping into the saddle.

  
She seems to take his words to heart.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not dead! And I wrote a new chapter (finally).

“He tried to kill you.”

 

“That’s the short of it, yes.”

 

“Why?”

 

Ichigo shrugs.

 

“Lots of people have tried to kill me,” he says. “I don’t really ask questions, anymore. What will you do with him?”

 

Theoden sighs.

 

“Return him to his father’s house,” he says. “Provided he survives the night, of course. There is no place for a man like him in the Rohirrim.”

 

“A cripple?”

 

“A traitor.” Theoden runs a hand through his golden hair. “It is known you have earned favor of my house, Gimma. His strike against you was a strike against his king. He will be returned home, a disgrace to his house and his people.”

 

Ichigo chews his lip thoughtfully.

 

“That’s… expected,” he says after a moment. “By your people?”

 

“Execution would be kinder,” Theoden admits. “There is no life to be had for a man who cannot stand or ride. His life will be a purgatory like none I could concoct on my own.”

 

He brought it on himself, Ichigo supposes, but still—

 

“Do you have wheelchairs here?”

 

Theoden blinks.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Wheelchairs,” Ichigo repeats. “We had them where I came from. When a person was unable to walk, they could be given wheelchairs to sit in. They had wheels attached, so they could move around.”

 

“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Theoden says. “What does it look like?”

 

“... Do you have paper? I could draw it.”

 

They’re sitting in Theoden’s office, so there is paper, and after a moment or two, Ichigo has a basic idea sketched onto the page in charcoal.

 

“In order to make it easier to maneuver, it would need to be lightweight,” he explains. “So the frame is usually made of a light, sturdy metal, and the seat and back is made of… leather would do, probably. It also makes it easier to transport, because it folds up.

 

“Copper could work for the frame, I think, at least in the short term,” Ichigo says, brow furrowing slightly. “And the wheels could be wood— but they need a metal rail, as well, so a person could roll themselves when they wanted.”

 

“An interesting contraption,” Theoden says. “But what do you want me to do with it?”

 

Ichigo blinks.

 

“If it were possible, I’d like to have it made for Kenelm,” he says, looking up at Theoden. “You said it yourself— execution would be kinder.”

 

“He tried to kill you,” Theoden points out. “You’re wounded. Why would you help him?”

 

“I’m a helpful sort of man,” Ichigo says, shrugging. “I don’t hold grudges, even when I probably should. He’s already going home a disgrace,” he adds. “That’ll be hard enough.”

 

Theoden stares at him for a long moment, then sighs, an odd smile playing at his mouth.

 

“You are too kind for your own good,” he decides. “But perhaps we need a man like you amongst us. You could lead our people to many great things, I think.”

 

“I’m no leader.”

 

“I’m sorry to say, you are,” Theoden says, smile widening into a grin. “You’ll have noticed there’s been an opening in the ranks. Third Marshall of the Riddermark.”

 

“I— no. You’re not doing this again,” Ichigo says flatly. “I’ve barely been here three months!”

 

“And in those three months, you’ve won the favor of my son, the Second Marshall, and myself,” Theoden says. “You saved the heir to the throne from an assassination attempt, learned to ride, and just gifted the king with a tool that many could benefit from. You’re my new Second Marshall. Don’t argue.”

 

Ichigo opens his mouth to do just that, then closes it again.

 

“Hereward’s never going to let me hear the end of it,” he says.

 

“Good,” Theoden says. “That’s what friends do. Now, the hour is late and there is much to be done tomorrow. You still have to be fitted for armor, you know. And you promised Theodred you’d go riding with him.”

 

“I did?”

 

“My son believes you did,” Theoden says. “And who are you to argue with a prince?”

 

Ichigo rolls his eyes, pushing himself to his feet.

 

“Fine,” he says. _ “Fine.” _

 

“I’ll send Éohides along to wake you,” Theoden calls after him cheerfully. “So be certain not to slip away into the servants’ gardens before she comes.”

 

Ichigo grumbles, but doesn’t otherwise answer. He’s lost this fight, and he knows it.

  
  


*.*

  
  


“Does this mean I have to listen to you now?” Hereward asks when he catches Ichigo in his shiny new armor not a month later. “Because you’re younger than me, Gimma, and I’m not sure I can handle a brat telling me how to fight.”

 

“I could kick your ass into the dirt any day of the week,” Ichigo says, sticking out his tongue. “Even with all this extra weight.”

 

“That ‘extra weight’ might save your life one day,” Eadbearn says, slapping him hard on the back. Ichigo stumbles, catches himself, then straightens, leveling the Second Marshall a glare that would make Yoruichi pause.

 

Naturally, Eadbearn’s grin only widens.

 

“You’ll have to get used to it if you’re to fight with us, Master Ichigo,” he says, leaning back. “A commander is always a target for the orcs.”

 

“Orcs?”

 

“You don’t have orcs where you come from?” Hereward asks. “Ugly, destructive beasts. They raid the border villages, raping ad pillaging and burning every hut they come across. Monsters, the lot of them.”

 

“... Sounds like it,” Ichigo says. His thumb fiddles with the edge of his new leather braces absently. “Are they a people, then? Another species of Middle Earth?”

 

“To put it loosely,” Eadbearn says. “They have no land, except for perhaps Mordor. It’s said they took the mountain halls after slaughtering the dwarves who built them. They hate the sun, you see— they only ever attack at night.”

 

Ichigo nods, categorizing the new information as yet another thing to ask Theoden about when he has the chance. Theoden is an excellent source of information regarding this new world— he can probably explain orcs better. Also dwarves. Ichigo didn’t know dwarves were a thing.

 

“So,” Hereward says, changing the subject. “How about we go show you off a bit? I’d love to test your reflexes wearing full armor.”

 

Ichigo rolls his eyes, already moving to buckle his sword to his belt.

 

“You’re on, Hereward,” he says. “May the best man— meaning me— win.”

**Author's Note:**

> Fracod- Old English/Rohirric for 'wicked'  
> Gimma- Old English/Rohirric for 'sun' and 'star'  
> Angrenûr- Sindarin for 'Iron Fire'
> 
> A/N: So yeah. It's a little bit different, but I like Rohan, and I like Theoden in particular, and I may have done a stupid amount of research that no one gives a fuck about, but hey, it makes me feels good inside that all the numbers line up. At this point in time, Theoden is thirty-five years old and has been ruling for three years. Theodred is five, Eomer and Eowyn aren't even sperm yet. The year is 2983, and the Battle of the Black Gate is in 3019. Let's see what sort of trouble Ichigo can get himself into between these two dates.


End file.
